Needed
by clair beaubien
Summary: Tag scene to I'm terrible with episode names Daniel calls Jack after they save Vala when her memory was erased.
1. Chapter 1

Ringing.

My phone is ringing.

It's the middle of the night and my phone is ringing.

This had better be important.

Without opening my eyes, I reach out from under the blanket toward my bedside table and snag my cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Jack! I didn't wake you up did I?"

It's Daniel. Of course it's Daniel. At three o'clock in the morning, for anything less than Armageddon, it could only be Daniel.

"No. No, of course not." I lie.

"I just wanted to let you know we found Vala. She's safe, she's home."

I decide to forgo telling Daniel that Landry already told me this - thirteen hours ago. Daniel needed to call me and it's nice to be needed.

"_Home_?" I have to ask him.

"Home. Yeah." He says, then I hear the grumble that means he's caught onto my innuendo. "She's back at the SGC." He explains to me patiently. "She's in the infirmary, sleeping."

"Let me guess, Dr. Lam ordered you out of there and to bed."

"Uh - well - yes." He admits, and I have to smile at the embarrassed tone in his voice. Daniel won't acknowledge his feelings for Vala until he puts a ring on her finger. And maybe not even then.

"I'm glad she's okay Daniel." I am glad; I also want to go back to sleep.

"You know Jack, I don't think I ever thanked you."

"Thanked me for what?" Sure, there's a couple of strings I pulled that freed up a squad of people who helped search for Vala, but that can't be what he's talking about. I wait, but he doesn't answer my question.

"Daniel?"

He still doesn't answer. What could he possibly need to thank me for? Opening a door when he had an armful of books? Bringing him coffee and a sandwich when he hadn't been out of his office for nearly twenty-four hours? There's so many things he could thank me for, and not one thing he needs to thank me for.

"Daniel?" I have prompt again.

"They had her on a machine that took her memory, " he says. "She tried to run away from us and when I got in her way, she pulled a gun on me." Ah, _that's_ what he thinks he needs to thank me for. He keeps talking before I can say anything.

"It's the first time I realized what it must've been like for you when I wanted to run away, back to Shyla and the sarcophagus and oblivion." He's talking faster than normal - and this is _Daniel_ I'm talking about - so he's embarrassed.

We never, not ever, talk about _that_, the 'incident' in the storage closet. Once he was clear of the withdrawal, the only time it got mentioned was if he needed to make clear to someone the hazards of sarcophagus use. Even then he doesn't talk about himself, he only addresses it in the most clinical terms.

I'm fine with that; our never talking about it. My friend needed help and I helped him. If that kind of thing needed thanks, all we'd be doing at the SGC would be thanking each other.

"I mean I knew she wasn't going to shoot me. I knew it, even though she was desperate and the gun was right at my face and she didn't seem to care who I was or what I was trying to do -." Still talking as fast as possible. He's going to strangle if I don't step in.

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

"I knew you wouldn't shoot me either."

He doesn't answer me right away.

"I think I wouldn't have known what to do if you hadn't - hadn't already done it for me." He's talking slower now, thinking about things. "I never thanked you - for that. For - for - for -." Oops, we're into stammering now.

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

Oh, I'm torn between a glib answer that'll end the conversation satisfactorily and let me get back to sleep, and making sure Daniel really understands.

"You already thanked me."

"I did," he says. "I did?"

"Yes, you did. When you recovered and re-joined the team, that's all the thanks I needed. No matter what ever happened, the only thanks I ever needed was you walking through the gate with me."

Silence. Utter and complete silence from the phone in Colorado.

"Daniel?"

I can hear breathing, so I know he hasn't dropped dead. Even after all this time, Daniel can be completely flummoxed by honest emotion and genuine affection. While he was recovering from his sarcophagus addiction, and for awhile after, we spent a lot of time together, not saying anything. And this is Daniel I'm talking about not saying anything, so _wow_, you know?

But he didn't have to say anything then, and I didn't have to say anything either. So now I give him silence again.

Finally he asks, "Were you scared?"

"That you'd shoot me? Well - a little."

"No. I - uh - oh." He sounds kind of disappointed.

"Daniel, I was afraid _for_ you, not _of_ you."

"Yeah, that's - umm - yeah."

"I knew if you shot me, even if you winged me, you'd never forgive yourself. There's plenty of things I can't forgive myself for. I didn't want that for you."

"I didn't know," he says. I'm not inclined to enumerate everything I blame myself for, so I don't answer him. That's not what he's talking about I realize as he goes on. "Until that happened, I didn't know that's what friendship means."

"That's one of the reasons I did it."

More silence. Then,

"Gosh Jack, I'm sorry. Look at the time. I didn't realize it was so late."

"That's one of the perks of being a retired Air Force general: I can sleep late." I can also order myself a flight to Colorado in the middle of the night if I want. I'm just deciding that I'll issue that order when I hear another voice at the other end of the phone.

"Is that Teal'c?"

"Yeah. Reminding me that Dr. Lam said I need to get some rest."

"Listen to him Daniel." I should've known Teal'c wouldn't be far away, looking out for Daniel. "You'll want to be nice and fresh when Vala is awake again."

"Jaaack."

"Landry said you two were on a date."

"It was not a date!"

He's so easy. I have to smile while he sputters on indignantly about how it wasn't a date.

"Daniel - go get some sleep. Don't keep Teal'c waiting. Call me tomorrow and let me know how Vala is doing."

"Okay, I will. Jack?"

"Daniel?"

For a few long seconds I listen to him breathe again.

I never think about what happened in the storage closet. The one time I remember thinking about it was when we were in lockdown, with Anubis on a body swapping campaign, and I had to shoot Daniel to keep Anubis from using him to leave the SGC.

Fresh out of the infirmary, Daniel came into my office to discuss our options. As he sat there at my desk, I did briefly think about it, what happened in the storage closet. I remembered how Daniel was at that moment, scared, desperate, maybe a little afraid of me. Afraid of himself.

The Daniel in my office after I shot him was fine. Calm, rational, smart. Acting like shooting him wasn't any worse than drinking his coffee without permission. For a moment there, I found it hard to believe they were the same person.

"Daniel?" I prompt again after a little while.

"That was the first, when you risked me killing you, the first time, after I had a chance to think about it, thinking about it, that was the first time I realized, I thought, maybe, that I let myself believe, just always before, that -."

"_Daniel_?"

"I didn't realize I meant anything to you before that." That sentence comes out in a rush.

Followed by what I assume is an embarrassed silence.

Do I point out to him that extrapolating that intelligence means that he's admitting Vala means something to him?? Do I??

No.

Do I think about it?

Oh yeah.

But not for long.

"When you let me comfort you Daniel, that was when I realized I meant something to you too."

Another embarrassed silence. This time from both sides.

"How about that Stanley Cup?" Daniel finally asks.

"Yeah, can't wait." I tell him, even though playoffs are another eight months away. "We'll have to get some beer and pizza and make a night of it. You know -."

" - just us guys."

"Right. Exactly. Guys. Doing guy things." I say.

"Tough manly things." Daniel agrees.

"Things that would make Teal'c proud."

"Exactly."

"Like getting some sleep." I have to slip in.

"Right! What?" Daniel sighs. "Yes Jack."

"Good. You're not as young as you used to be." It's true, but I'm not sure whether I like it or not. Sometimes I miss the naive, trusting, exasperating, _young_ Dr. Daniel Jackson. Sometimes I miss being needed.

"Look who's talking." He answers me.

Luckily, even though he's not as young as he was, he's as exasperable as he ever was.

"You need to rest up so you can take Vala on another date."

"Jaaaaaaaack. It was _not_ a date!"

"That's what Landry said it was." And so did Carter, Teal'c, Siler, Walter...

He grumbles and mutters more how it wasn't a date. He's so easy.

"I'm glad Vala's OK." I tell him again.

"Yeah, me too."

"And I'm glad you called me Daniel. You know I worry about you."

For a second I wonder if I'm going to listen to him breathe again.

"I'm glad I called you too."

It's nice to be needed.

The End


	2. Who Needs Who?

Author's note: translation of the run-on sentence is at the end of the story.

+*+

Ringing.

My phone is ringing.

I'm in the middle of a crucial translation and my phone is ringing.

This had better be important.

Without looking up from the microscope where I'm studying a fragment of clay tablet, I reach for my phone.

"Hello?"

"Daniel! I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

It's Jack, of course it's Jack. With such an important translation in front of me and such a short time to accomplish it, it could only be Jack.

"Well, as a matter of fact Jack -."

He doesn't wait for me to finish.

"Have you got the game on? Did you see that call they just made?"

Now I lift my head to peer around my lab. Monitors, computers, microscopes, technical equipment everywhere. Not one television. Never has been.

"Well, as a matter of fact -."

"How can they say that was no goal? Anybody who was looking could see it made it all the way over the goal line. Am I right?"

"Well, as a matter of -."

"Exactly! They don't know what they're talking about!"

Ever since Jack went to Washington, and I _*didn't*_ go to Atlantis, he has developed this habit of calling me at odd times – odd for me – to discuss whatever sports game he happens to be watching. Usually hockey. Usually when I'm in the middle of something delicate and important.

"So – whatcha working on?" He asks. We must be at commercial. "Anymore stuff of life…stuff?"

"Well as a matter –."

"What! No! How could you – you blind…"

Why do I bother?

His tirade rolls off into a mixture of despair and anger at some anonymous referee. I guess we *_weren't_* at commercial. This happens every time he calls. I don't know why I never hang up on him, I should. He probably wouldn't even notice.

"So -." He goes on as though I've answered him. As though he's given me the chance. "Not much going on?"

Knowing my window of opportunity is small, if non-existent, I try to get my answer out in as little time as possible.

"*_WellasamatteroffactJackSG11broughtbackaclaytabletyesterdaythatseemstomakementionofaweaponverysimilartotheonewethinkMerlincreatedagainsttheOrisoIhaveithereundermymicroscopetryingtotranslateitbeforewegoonournextmission_.*"

"Wow." He sounds impressed. But it's not with the clay tablet. "How'd you manage to say that all in one breath?"

Why do I even bother?

"How'd anybody write anything on something so small you need a microscope to read it anyway?"

So he *_was_* listening.

"Well as a -."

"Reminds me of a spy decoder ring I sent away for from Cocoa Puffs when I was a kid. It had the whole Declaration of Independence inside of it, you could read through a special lens."

Sort of listening.

"Hey, did you ever play Tiddly Winks when you were kid? They used to give those away in Cocoa Puffs too."

Why do I even bother?

"Well, as -."

"No, you're too young for Tiddly Winks. What did they have over there in Egypt anyway when you were a kid? Camel tipping? What – no! It was in the crease!"

Ah, the game is back on and not going the way Jack wants it to.

"So – everything's OK there? Nothing you need me to take care of for you? Mitchell's not putting too much on you, is he? I know you Daniel, you've gotta learn to delegate to your underlings."

"Well-."

"Are you busy? Because I can call later..."

Why do I bother?

"…I just wanted to see how you're doing."

I bother because I like talking with him, even if it's mostly listening to him. Because I like knowing that Jack knows he can call me whenever he wants, to talk about whatever he wants. Because he's listened to similar pointless conversations from me when all I really wanted was company, even long distance company.

Because we're friends.

"Well, as a matter of fact Jack, I was just about to take a break. What's the score?"

The End.

"Well as a matter of fact Jack, SG11 brought back a clay tablet yesterday that seems to make mention of a weapon very similar to the one we think Merlin created against the Ori so I have it here under my microscope trying to translate it before we go on our next mission."


End file.
